Playing With Fire. Derek Landy
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Название: Playing With Fire

Автор: Derek Landy

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Детская проза

Серия:

isbn: 9780007302123

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ an exact replica of herself. She went to the door, put her ear to it and listened. Satisfied that her parents were sound asleep, Valkyrie shrugged off her coat as her replica stood up.

      “Your arm,” it said. “It’s bruised.”

      “Had a little run-in with a bad guy,” Valkyrie answered, keeping her voice low. “How was your day?”

      “School was OK. I did all the homework, except the last maths question. I didn’t know how to do that. Your mum made lasagne for dinner.”

      Valkyrie kicked off her boots. “Nothing strange happened?”

      “No. A very normal day.”

      “Good.”

      “Are you ready to resume your life?”

      “I am.”

      The reflection nodded, went to the full-length mirror and stepped through, then turned and waited. Valkyrie touched the glass and a day’s worth of memory flooded into her mind as the reflection changed, the clothes Valkyrie was wearing appearing on it, and then it was nothing more than a reflected image in a mirror.

      She sifted through the new memories, arranging them beside the memories she’d formed on her own. There had been a careers class in school. The teacher had tried to get them to declare what they wanted to be when they left school, or at least what they’d like to study in college. Nobody had any idea of course. The reflection had stayed quiet too.

      Valkyrie thought about this. She didn’t really need a regular career after all. She was set to inherit Gordon’s estate and all his royalties when she turned eighteen anyway, so she’d never be short of money. Besides, what kind of career would interest her outside of magic? If she’d been in that class, she knew what she would have answered. Detective. That would have garnered a few sniggers around the room, but she wouldn’t have minded.

      The main difference between her and her friends was not the magic, she knew, and nor was it the adventure. It was the fact that she knew what she wanted to do with her life, and she was already doing it.

      Valkyrie undressed, pulled on her Dublin football jersey and climbed into bed. Twenty seconds later she was asleep.

       Image Missing

      Image Missing dark shape flitted high above the streets of London, moving from rooftop to rooftop, spinning and twisting and cavorting in the air. He wore no shoes and his footsteps were light, his tread no more than a whisper, snatched away by the night breeze. He sang to himself as he moved, and giggled, a high-pitched giggle. He was dressed in black, with a battered top hat that stayed perched on his misshapen head no matter what acrobatic feat he performed. His suit was torn, old and musty, and his long-fingered hands were tipped with long, hardened nails.

      He landed on one leg on the edge of a rooftop and stayed there, his lanky body curled. He looked down on to Charing Cross Road, at the people passing below him, at the cars zipping by. His cracked lips pursed, his small eyes moving, he browsed the selection on offer, making a choice.

      “Jack.”

      He turned quickly to see the young woman walking towards him. Her long coat was closed and the breeze played with her tousled blonde hair, teasing it across her face. And such a pretty face. Jack hadn’t seen as pretty a face in many a year. His lips parted, showed small yellow teeth, and he gave her his best smile.

      “Tanith,” he said in a voice that was high and strained, in an accent that was a cross between East London and … something else, something unknowable. “You’re lookin’ ravishin’.”

      “And you’re looking revolting.”

      “You are too kind, I’m sure. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

      Tanith Low shook her head. “It’s not your neck of the woods any longer, Jack. Things have changed. You shouldn’t have come back.”

      “Where was I gonna go? Old Folks’ Home? Retirement Village? I’m a creature of the night, love. I’m Springheeled Jack, ain’t I? I belong out here.”

      “You belong in a cell.”

      He laughed. “Me? In captivity? For what possible crime?”

      “You mean, apart from murder?”

      He turned his head so he was looking at her out of the corner of one eye. “That still illegal then?”

      “Yes, it is.”

      She opened her coat, revealing the sword against her leg. “You’re under arrest.”

      He laughed, did a flip in the air, landed on his right foot and grinned at her. “Now this is new. You were always pokin’ your nose where it wasn’t wanted, always dealin’ out what you thought was justice, but you never arrested anyone. You a proper copper now, that it? You one of the constabulary?”

      “Give up, Jack.”

      “Bloody hell, you are. Consider me impressed.”

      He dipped his head, looked at her with those small eyes of his. “What was it you used to say, before things got all rough and tumble? ‘Come and have a go—”

      “If you think you’re hard enough.”

      He grinned. “Do you?”

      She withdrew her sword from its scabbard. It caught a beam of moonlight and held it, and she looked back at him without expression. “I’ll let you decide that.”

      And Springheeled Jack sprang.

      He flipped over her and she turned, ducking the swipe of hard nails, moving again as he landed, narrowly avoiding the return swipe and twisting to face him as he came at her.

      He batted the sword to one side and his right foot went to her thigh, his toenails digging in, and he clambered up, kneeling on her shoulder. She grabbed his wrist to avoid the nails. She stumbled, unable to support his weight, but he jumped before she hit the rooftop, landed gracefully as she rolled to a crouch and then he dived at her again.

      They went tumbling. He heard the sword clatter from her grip, and felt her foot on his belly as she kicked. He did a flip and landed, but her fist was right there, smacked him square in the face. He took a few steps back, bright lights dancing before his eyes. She kicked his knee, and he howled in pain, then there was a grip on his wrist and a sudden wrenching. He pushed her away, his vision clearing.

      “You should be leavin’ me alone!” he spat. “I’m unique, me! They don’t even have a name for what I am! I should be on the Endangered Species list! You should be protectin’ me!”

      “You know how they protect Endangered Species, Jack? They put them in a special enclosure, where no one can harm them.”

      His face СКАЧАТЬ